


Cowboy Up

by bubblebucky



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Cussing, F/M, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Parent Jesse McCree, dang it Gabriel stop saying fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 12:30:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebucky/pseuds/bubblebucky
Summary: Three years after Jesse McCree joins Blackwatch, he gets a call that brings him back to New Mexico. There, he finds something more than the girl he'd left behind. Jesse's not the same punk-ass kid who knocked a girl up and got himself arrested before she could let him know, but that doesn't mean he's ready to be a father.It seems he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter.





	Cowboy Up

**Author's Note:**

> cowboy up: toughen-up, get back on your horse, don’t back down, don’t give up, do the best you can with the hand you’re dealt, give it all you’ve got.

It took awhile to get out there, to the gas station just a hundred miles or so outside the little town he used to haunt. Being back in New Mexico was an odd feeling after all these years—like he didn’t quite fit in his skin, or his hat wouldn’t sit right on his head. Seeing the place unchanged, so uncannily identical to the place he left behind when he joined Blackwatch, made him realize that he could barely recognize himself.

He wanted to turn tail and run. He never really wanted to return to this place, not when everything still seemed to drip with all the blood on his hands, all his shame. But he got a call from someone he once considered more than a friend, and in the face of their earnest request, Jesse couldn’t say no and ended up driving through the night to meet her at the gas station she mentioned. He pulled up right as the sun pulled itself over the edge of the orange rock formations that decorated the horizon, painting the sky a rainbow of reds and purples. It was a familiar sight, in the way a dead relative might be.

Although, no matter how much it seemed like this place was caught in some sort of bubble that time didn’t touch, he knew it wasn’t true. There was proof enough of that right in front of him.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize something was wrong when he caught sight of Julia for the first time in years. He didn’t say anything, but she must’ve seen him staring—though telling him was probably the reason why she dragged him out there. She was dying. Brain cancer. Four months. Each word was a blow to Jesse’s stomach, like he was losing something he didn’t even get the chance to keep.

Then she opened the back door of her truck, and he realized she hadn’t even gotten to the worst part.

“Her name’s Maybelle Starr McCree,” Julia said, a funny, empty sort of smile on her face as she dragged her eyes up to Jesse’s. “Thought you’d like it.”

Jesse couldn’t do much more than stare at the sleeping kid in the backseat of her truck—his kid, obvious enough by the wild curls of her hair, the same ones that he’d wrestled with for the last twenty-two years. Maybelle sighed in her sleep, shifting slightly, and Jesse swallowed roughly.

Julia huffed a laugh at the look on his face. “You’ll be fine, Jess. She’s a good kid.” The smile she was wearing wilted, then, as her chapped lips pressed together and she turned her gaze to her daughter, blinking. The breath she took in was audible and shuddering, and she said, “She’s a real good kid. Better than me—better than you, too.” She snorted, a humorless thing, and a few tears dripped down her cheeks before she could wipe them away. “You gotta take care of her. Please. I know it wasn’t ever gonna work out between the two of us, but she’s—she’s my baby.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

Then, her face crumpled, and she shoved a hand against her mouth to keep her sobs muffled, shaking and looking so tired, so unlike the woman she was when Jesse last saw her. He could remember meeting Julia for the first time and falling head over boots for her sharp tongue and wide smile. He liked the way she didn’t take shit from anybody, the way she could outmaneuver all the guys with her quick wit, the way she wore her curves the same way Jesse wore his hat—proudly and unapologetically.

That wasn’t the Julia he saw now, sick and desperate in front of him, pushing a three year old onto him. Jesse bets the younger version of himself that Julia had known would’ve been off like a bullet at the sight of her now—but Jesse had changed some, too, over the last three years. He wasn’t the same dumbass punk who’d knock up some girl and skip town before she could tell him.

This Julia was still beautiful, though. That’s one thing that hadn’t changed in all this mess. Even pale and gaunt with whatever sickness running rampant in her veins, she still took his breath away. Their daughter had her face, soft and freckled. Her face, but Jesse’s hair, and he wasn’t sure whose eyes. He supposed he’d find out when the kid finally woke up.

Suddenly, despite all his terror, the color of her eyes was something Jesse desperately wanted to know—no, needed. He needed to know this kid that he unknowingly helped create, needed to see her grow up and smile and laugh and hopefully be everything her parents never managed to be. He needed to be there for her, the one good thing he’s maybe ever done. Letting her go now that he knew she existed wasn’t an option. Julia didn’t need to worry.

Of course, Jesse knew she would. Because she’ll be missing all that, if the doctor’s were right about anything—and she had to rely upon Jesse to do it for her, the stupid kid she’d fucked around with for six months before he went and got himself arrested.

Jesse would be terrified, too. He nodded, face solemn.

“I’ve got her, Jules,” Jesse told her, “I swear I’ll do right by her.”

Relief broke on Julia’s face like the sun through dark clouds. It seemed foolish for her to be so relieved on account of the word of someone she hadn’t seen in years, whose promise to do his best by her daughter was dulled by the fact that his best had never been all that good.

“Thank you,” she choked, a true smile coming onto her face—the same smile Jesse loved once—and he opened his arms up and pulled her in tight, letting her smother her sobs and gratitude against his chest as he buried his face into her hair. If he cried a little, too, then the only other person who’d know would be dead soon enough.

And later, Jesse walked back into base, a little girl held tight in his arms, his eyes bloodshot only to those who looked closely. Maybelle held on to a stuffed rabbit with one hand, and the other one clutched white-knuckled at Jesse’s shirt. Her eyes were wide as they took in their surroundings—wider, still, as they were caught on the man approaching them.

Jesse stopped when Gabriel did, coming to a standstill in the hall. Gabriel’s eyes flickered to the girl, to the curl of her hair, to the hand grabbing relentlessly at Jesse’s shirt.

Then, calmly, he said, “Hello, I’m Commander Reyes. What’s your name?”

Maybelle looked to Jesse immediately as if he’d answer for her, but when he just stared back at Gabriel, she hesitantly offered, “Belle.”

Gabriel smiled. “That’s a pretty name,” he said, and Belle’s grip on Jesse’s shirt loosened slightly. “I bet you’re tired, Belle. Why don’t you two go get settled?”

Jesse didn’t miss the look Gabriel shot him. “Yeah, boss,” he said, heaving a sigh and adjusting his grip on the small duffel he had tossed over one shoulder, and they continued down the hall.

* * *

Gabriel didn’t say anything when Jesse walked into his office something like an hour later. All he did was watch him with dark, careful eyes, waiting for Jesse to start talking. Usually, this would take awhile; for all that Jesse’s got a big mouth, he’s also stubborn enough to keep it shut out of spite. This time, however, to Gabriel’s hidden surprise, Jesse’s silence failed not even a minute in.

“Her full name is Maybelle Starr McCree,” he said, the words sudden, almost as if they burst from his mouth against his will. Jesse let out a mean-sounding snort, shaking his head. “Funny, right? Named her after the Bandit Queen. Like father, like daughter, I guess.”

That confirmed that. Gabriel remained quiet for sometime more, seeing if Jesse would volunteer anything else, but Jesse twisted his mouth shut and kept his eyes trained on the ground, so eventually Gabriel spoke up.

“Who’s her mother?” he asked. The _where is she_ and _what happened to her_ was implied.

The question garnered a flinch from Jesse, which wasn’t a great sign.

“Julia Walker.” Jesse’s fingers twitched where they were held stiff at his sides. “She, uh, used to work in one of the joints my old crew hung in.”

There was a pause as he opened his mouth, tried to speak, but no words came. Gabriel waited patiently as Jesse took a few breaths before continuing, “She’s got brain cancer. Inoperable. Doctors said she wasn’t gonna make it four months.”

Jesse’s voice broke near the end, and he stopped immediately, swallowing harshly and squeezing his eyes shut. Everything about him screamed of some sort of deep pain. When Jesse’s eyes opened again, Gabriel wasn’t surprised to see them shiny.

“She was gonna start not actin’ like herself,” he said, quiet and trembling. “You know, forgetful, maybe a li’l mean. Her brain was gonna be eating itself alive.” Jesse made a choked noise. “She didn’t want Belle seein’ her like that, didn’t want her to remember her that way.”

Suddenly, Gabriel regretted not getting Ana to be in this meeting with him. She always knew what to say to agents, no matter what their grief. Gabriel wasn’t any good at comfort or sympathy—he usually dealt with problems by going on missions until they went away on their own. That wouldn’t work here, not when the problem was a living and breathing child.

Luckily—or maybe not, because Gabriel’s chest was already aching for the kid—Jesse barreled on, saving him from needing to come up with a response.

“There was nobody else, boss,” Jesse said, almost a plea for him to understand. “And she—she’s mine. She’s my daughter. I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

“I know, McCree,” Gabriel cut in, harsher than he meant. He tried to soften his tone for his next, awkward words, “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.” Jesse pressed his palms against his eyes. “It’s all fucked. God, what am I supposed to do? I don’t know anything. I can’t take care of a kid; I can’t even take care of myself. I’m—I’m gonna mess her all up, I know it.” Jesse shuddered. “She’s so young. I’m gonna ruin her.”

It struck Gabriel then how young Jesse was, too. He’d always known it—he’d picked that nineteen year old punk up from the streets by the scruff of his neck himself, after all—but seeing it now, when the kid was just twenty-two and already saddled with a three year old and her soon-to-be dead mother to explain, was shocking. It was unfair, Gabriel realized, and then felt like a naïve fool for even bothering to think it.

Jesse said brokenly, “I’m not ready to be a father.”

“Well, tough shit.”

Jesse’s head snapped up, eyes wide and wet, and Gabriel glowered at how vulnerable he looked.

“You don’t get a choice in the matter. You knocked a girl up, you had a kid, and now you gotta take care of her. Cowboy the fuck up.”

Jesse blinked. “But I don’t know how—”

“For fuck’s sake, kid, no one knows how.” Gabriel jabbed a finger into Jesse’s chest, making him reel back a little. “But you’re gonna learn, because you have to. You’re gonna raise her right, because if you don’t, I’ll kick your ass. Hopefully the brat will get on my nerves less than her dad.”

Gabriel sort of made all that up as he was saying it, but he must’ve done something right because Jesse was looking up at him with hope trickling into his eyes. Gabriel huffed, hating the fact that he cared so much for this stupid asshole, and closed the distance between them to slap a hand on his shoulder.

“We aren’t leaving you to drown, kid,” Gabriel promised gruffly. “We’ll figure something out. Besides, there’ll be plenty of people willing to help.”

“Thanks, boss.” Jesse’s voice was raw and cracking, but he had that shit-eating grin that told Gabriel his next words were meant to piss him off specifically. “You know, I bet you’re gonna be a great Uncle Gabe.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Gabriel snapped immediately, but even Jesse could hear it was nothing more than a token protest.

**Author's Note:**

> Belle Starr was a notorious outlaw in the wild west. She got the title "The Bandit Queen" because she's badass as hell. Since Jesse is named Jesse James McCree after a similar sharp-shooting criminal, I thought it'd be appropriate that his daughter upheld that tradition 
> 
> also, comment if you wanna see more i guess. thanks for reading


End file.
